My gaze caresses the sexy man before me. Professor Byron is about Cam's height, so somewhere around six foot or slightly above. Dark brown hair with just a hint of gray in his not quite a beard but noticeably overgrown stubble. My gaze finds his and an intense mix of green, gold, and rich brown pull me into their depths, as if they are calling my soul. I break eye contact before I do something stupid like yell out, “Spank me, Professor Hottie!” or drool all over this uncomfortable desk.
A voice clears to my left, drawing my attention. When I turn, it feels like the weight of boulders fall from my chest as I see Camden in all his glory sitting a person over. So worried about being late, I didn't even notice him sitting there. I don’t think I can handle one more consequence this place has to offer. I attempt to reach him through mental connection but I’m blocked. It doesn't feel like Cam is intentionally doing it right now, which frustrates me even more.
A large hand slaps the cold marble of the ancient desk, startling me. "Ms. Kane, is there a problem here?" Professor Stick-in-the-mud demands—he doesn’t deserve cute nicknames when he’s being an ass.
Before I can answer the hottie asshole that is my professor, the guy next to me smirks and cooly says, "Aww, is someone cockblocked?" I whip around to my cocky classmate, eyes wide and mouth open. My jaw must be on the floor. His mouth didn’t move so he clearly communicated that directly to me.
I’ve never met another witch that can do what I do. Granted, I’ve been forced to hide all my life, never being allowed to fully explore the full range of my powers. Sometimes powers just appear. This one, however, I know well. I, and apparently this guy, can go inside witches’ minds to read them and know their deepest wishes and fears. The connection Cam and I have is a variation of this. He and I communicate in such a way, when one of us isn’t shutting the other out that is.
"You can—? How are you—?" I stop trying to complete a thought and end my incoherent babble with a harrumph. As shocked as I am, I can’t help but to be a little intrigued as well.
Paying no attention to me he keeps talking. "Did I mess up your happy reunion, Princess? Don't worry, I have just what you need. But warning, I do bite." My eyes narrow, taking him in. He’s so familiar, but surely if I had met him I wouldn’t forget that smile, that face.
"Enough," Professor Byron whisper-shouts. My mind stills and I want to speak, but every time I start to talk, the words are stuck, so I give up. Did the professor put a child’s spell on me? Probably. I slouch in my seat with a pout. So much for all my grand first day of class plans.
I am comforted when I look at Cam and see him staring back at me, a look of adoration clear on his face. I can't help but wonder how I've missed it all these years. His feelings for me have been written all over his face, his actions. From that first day he comforted me in the treehouse to the day he stood up to the Supreme Witch Council asking to come here with me, he has had my best interest at heart. It doesn't matter how blind I’ve been because now I'm ready to risk it all.
I turn my focus on Professor Byron as he begins to lecture. My eyes roam over him like I’m a huntress looking for prey. The sudden urge to stalk him until he’s trapped in me rushes through me, but I’ll have to settle on staring at his mouth. Looking at his perfectly formed plump lips won't hurt me too bad, even if he is an asshole when he speaks. Right on cue his tongue darts out to run moisture along those sexy red lips.
"Today, we are going to delve in to the idea of identity. Who you are and what your power is, is a reflection of your origin of decent. While the witch population shares physical, genetic identity, our powers—along with their strengths—vary greatly. It is a popular belief that witches' lineage shapes all aspects of their magic power dynamic. Most of these same believers also opine that select witches descended from a select group of god-like witches have a fated mate or mates, depending on origins. Once a bond is formed…"
And I'm officially zoned out. Can we say information dump, Professor Hottie? Mother warned me basically from birth about the dangers of conspiracy theorists and how they would try to steal my extraordinary power. That is how I was able to keep it. Say what you want about her but when it comes to my magic she was always right.
I can't help but turn to the beautiful man beside me. His sharp cheekbones and stately nose create a profile that is all beauty. His is a beauty that makes me think he could do just about anything and get away with it. The richness of his voice sounds in my head triggering the huntress in me. So much prey, so little time.
"I can't wait to get to know you better, Princess.” He emphasizes the nickname, which I hate, but somehow it still feels special coming from him. He doesn't feel like a nickname guy to me. I put my blocker up so he quits invading my head without permission. I can’t help but hate that I'm not as unique as I thought.
Turning, I listen to more of the lecture on how we’ll learn about the heritage and who and what we are as witches. How we will learn to harness the wholeness of our powers and use for good. And blah, blah, blah.
My zoning out is interrupted yet again by the sound of my name. "Huh?" I let out with a confused sigh.
"Izzy, I'd like to see you after class. You too, Julian. Do not keep me waiting," Professor Byron clips at us, his stare pointed, face still as stone.
After more attempts to tune out Professor stick-in-the-mud, I give up for good. The melodic soothing of his voice draws me in and keeps me enraptured, despite the dull subject matter.
With five minutes to go, I remember I should have gotten a syllabus at the start of class but didn’t. I look around to see one on most of the desks, including the guy next to me. I'm still not sure about him, I swear I’ve seen him before. He gives me a try me look, so I reach over to steal his copy. As I swipe the paper from him, I open up my barrier.
It takes way more effort than it should, but I'm able to shoot him a, "Thanks, Doll," before letting it fall closed again.
I look down to see what to expect from this class and am baffled to see today's lecture showing it should be ‘Personal responsibility and commitment to community and council.’ That is not what he’s discussing.
Snapping my gaze to the man leading the class, I can't help but wonder what is going on around here. He focuses on me. His gaze is so intense it’s like it is penetrating my soul, easily bypassing all well-constructed barriers. His stony face cracks as a lopsided smile appears. I refuse to be sucked into his charm and sexy ways.
"Class dismissed," he says, still staring at me.
I turn to find Cam, but he is already beside me. "Are you going to be okay with him? I don't like the way he looks at you."
The gloom that has been holding me hostage dies as I look up to him. A genuine smile born of the affection I have for Cam emerges, and I know with him by my side I can slay dragons. Hell, maybe he's kinky and wants both. I ignore the tingle that runs through me at the thought.
My heart pounds as I give Cam a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I’m okay I’ve dealt with worse. Don’t wait for me, I have another class right after this."
Turning, I see not one but two men. Their eyes are narrowed, jaws pulled tight. For fuck's sake. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed. I sigh, a habit I find happening entirely too often around here, and walk to them like I was heading to the gallows.
It just keeps getting better and better.
Seven
I lift my hand to knock on Cam's door, but I already know he's not there. There isn't any movement, and I don't feel him nearby. I knock anyway, not surprised at the radio silence.
With a huff, I kick the door before I spin and lean my back against it in frustration. I had already waited for thirty minutes. Time that I didn't have, camped outside Cam's Building Bridges in the Community class. How is it we have only one class together? One! And that is Professor Byron's class. We’ve had small talk and know each other are okay, but it's been a week since we've arrived, and not getting to spend some quality time with him is really starting to piss me off. I'll brin
g my pillow and blanket and camp out in the hallway if I don't see him in the next two days to set up a time we can sit down and truly talk. There’s so much we have to discuss.
I pound my fist on the door and growl my frustration. I’ve got to get moving, but before I leave, I slip a note to Cam under the door, letting him know I stopped by and am thinking of him. I'm sure he's just as frustrated as I am. Then I’m off to another grueling day of non-stop ‘learning.’
The five-thirty wake up call the next morning has me dragging myself out of bed in order to get ready for my first class. I'm barely functioning at this ungodly hour. Courses starting at seven o’clock in the morning are unethical, but it's laughable to try and complain to anyone at a reformatory that has people doing drugs and screwing everywhere.
As I methodically run through my morning routine, I sort through what my agenda looks like for today. Domestic Witchcraft 101 runs from 7:00-10:00am. They had to make the worst class on the list three fucking hours long. It’s not bad enough that I have to sit through that patriarchal bullshit. Nope. They’re going to try and pound it into my head that I have to please the alpha male in my life. Have they not heard of gender equality? Bunch of outdated, uptight… men.
After How To Be A Dimwit 101, I have twenty minutes to get across the campus to Byron's ninety-minute class. Reformative Behaviors is the only class that is held every day, and I can’t say I mind getting schooled by Professor Hottie on the daily. I might not be learning much other than the layout of his scorching physique, but I’m not complaining.
Immediately following his class is a mandatory study hall. I'll be lucky to fit in lunch before I have another mandatory study hall and then an early evening seminar. I suppose I'll grab fast food from the campus cafe on my way back to my dorm before falling into bed. Only to wake up tomorrow to do it all over again.
Every day is the same day, just rotating classes, and no time to pursue what I want. How in the hell do all the people around here seem to give no shits? Doesn't anyone say anything about them never being where they're supposed to be? I missed one class and have a month of mandatory study halls added to the ones I already had. I’m on a mission to prove those old men on the council wrong… and get Cam out of here.
If I don't leave now, I'm going to be late. With a last glance at my clock, I grab my bag and head out the door, only to come face to face with a bleary-eyed Cam.
"Cam!" I squeal as I throw my arms around his neck. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I'm in a hurry. I'm already in trouble with Professor Calloway. Can you walk and talk?" I sneak a look at his ass as he walks ahead of me. Muscled firm perfection, as always. I shake my head at myself. I’m always the huntress evaluating her potential prey.
"You checking me out?" He slows to walk beside me. I notice the two travel mugs in his hands and moan in pleasure. I love the way he takes care of me.
"If that is a mug of coffee for me, I might just propose right now." Cam blushes, and I second guess my decision to joke around that way. We haven't talked yet, and I don't want him to think I'm playing with his emotions.
"Actually, Cam, I do want to talk to you. This place is a clusterfuck of a time suck, and I hate that we haven't had more time together." Blowing through the hole in the lid of the coffee as we walk, I wait to hear what Cam has to say.
He pulls me closer to him and throws his arm around my shoulder. "I know. If you have any downtime, I'm in class or Julian has me doing something that ‘really can't wait.’ He’s a character, but proving to be someone who I trust and care for. I think you guys are a lot alike."
I snort and can’t hold back the eye roll.
"Don't roll your eyes,” he says with a laugh, squeezing me into his side. He grins down at me. “I know you find my roomie hot." He gives me a pointed look, with one eyebrow raised in challenge.
My face heats under his stare and I shoot him a glare. "Shut it. We're not talking about Julian, we’re talking about you right now. You're my person, Cam. No matter who else I find sexy." I'm slightly out of breath at the pace of our walk. I have less than five minutes left to make it to class and need to run if I'm going to get there on time.
He smiles around his coffee cup, mouth poised to take a sip. "Else? We definitely need to talk, Ms. Kane,” he says in a joking tone, but his expression is serious. “It might take some time, but I'll find somewhere we can meet up. Alone. I'll find you or slip you a note when I have it figured out."
I stop walking, prompting Cam to stop too. Facing him I smooth the floppy mop of curls that have fallen slightly over his forehead. "You need a haircut, mister," I chide before reaching up to kiss his cheek. Never one to linger on long goodbyes, I blurt, "I gotta go. I'll see you," before I turn and jog toward the building that houses my next class.
"I'll see you!" floats lightly through the air to my ears as I run as quickly as I can.
The next several days prove to be so busy I’m surprised I’m not about to have a mental breakdown. They are also glaringly void of Cam except for the one class we share. Later today during one of my mandatory study halls, I’ve gotten permission to meet with Julian. The fact that I’m able to see Julian with ease while I’m finding it so hard to get alone time with Cam has my emotions all out of whack. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but my feelings don’t matter at this point. Professor Byron thought it would be great fun for Julian and me to be assigned an extra assignment. A unique research assignment tracing the history of a clan of warrior witches from centuries ago. Not sure why this particular ancient civilization is essential to our journey into becoming better witches to reintegrate into witch society but I don't get the luxury of asking questions or knowing the whys. I suppose Byron has his reasons.
Cam did manage to slip me another note letting me know he was close to finding somewhere safe for us to talk. I’m anxious to tell him how I feel about him. I’m equally anxious to get some real time with my best friend. The injustice of our separation is the worst punishment I could imagine for myself. It’s like someone knows this and is pulling our puppet strings to keep us apart. If he doesn’t get the logistics figured out soon, he’ll just have to get over it when I take over and find a time and place.
Eight
The library stands tall and stately among the old buildings that make up the reformatory campus. There are only two windows each at almost the peak of towers on each side, making it look more castle-like than the library it is. It’s made of the same black stone as the rest of the buildings. This whole reformatory would be a dream set for a horror movie.
When I enter the library, it is uncrowded but chaotic at the same time. I don’t see many people, but keens and pleasured cries come at me like arrows of distraction. Directly in front of me is a desk for checking in and out books and requesting private study rooms. I’m not sure who is the one that should be working because a couple stands at the counter.
A young woman leans against the inside counter and the guy behind her clearly has his hand down the front of her pants. I guess I don’t need a map that badly. To the left is a row of tables situated in the center of the bookshelves of books. People are coupled, even tripled or more off against shelves or on the reading chairs to the right. And this is just the bottom floor.
As if I need this. It’s not like Julian’s presence isn’t a bad enough distraction on its own or anything, I think sarcastically. When he’s around, my body wants to join in with everyone surrounding us and let go of all sexual inhibitions. I want to give in to the primal urges inside that call to me. They whisper, hunt him down and devour all he has to give you.
As soon as I think of Julian, he’s standing behind me with his body heat warm against my skin. “You called, Princess.”
My nipples instantly harden. Instead of letting him see he excites me, I hang on to the annoyance that he’s part of the reason I haven’t gotten any time with Cam. I spin on him, but the admonishment falls away with one look at his crooked grin. Something tells me today is going to be fun.
Completely useless as far as our assignment goes, but fun nonetheless.
He leans down to whisper in my ear, “Hear that? That’s the sound of raw passion. What a shame it’s not with his girlfriend. What do you say we let her know she’s needed urgently at the library. After all, room 105 is the perfect place to practice kindness spells.” His wicked laugh makes my pulse spike. The more I think about it, the more I realize it could be fun.
Without much time to ponder what he’s proposed, the library door has opened and a mousy girl enters with a determined look. When she opens the door and stands inside the entrance to the private room, her cry hurts me a little. I can’t decide if Julian’s summons is mean to her or if it is her boyfriend getting his just desserts.
As we walk deeper into the library, the sexual happenings around us become more and more evident. My arousal hearing all this sex around us coupled with Juilan’s presecene is almost too much. What would he say if I asked him to get on his knees and taste me?
“Do you wonder why all this is allowed? It’s like it’s encouraged. Aren’t we supposed to be reforming? Not boinking like bunnies and inhaling their ‘blow’ like it’s a vitamin.”
“Just blow?” His teasing can be so annoying sometimes. We’ve known each other all of a week and a half now and it’s starting to get old.
“And the other stuff, too, but you get my point.” I pin him with my stare. I refuse to let him off the hook. He has been around this place a lot longer than I have.
He runs his hand down his face and ruffles my hair like I’m his annoying little sister. “I have theories. I might even tell you about them. One day.”
“Ugh! You’re an ass.” I grab his hand and pull him along, while simultaneously trying to ignore the tingles that holding his hand produces. We might have chemistry, but he’s not a good guy. I know, we’re cut from the same rotted cloth.
Sinful Sister Page 3
